


The heart of the matter

by Elysya (orphan_account)



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Drinking, Lots of Secrets, M/M, Other, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, other characters may be added later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9094114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Elysya
Summary: In a world where the existence of a Mark on your skin determined whether you would find happiness or not, Kurt Hummel struggles with the idea that he isn’t supposed to fall in love, he isn’t supposed to be happy. No one pushes the Hummels around, not even Fate itself. Or how Kurt and Blaine only wanted to be in love, but found themselves in a situation bigger than anything they could have ever predicted.





	1. It All Starts With a Bird

Elizabeth always tried to teach his son that no matter what, he was a precious life and no one could dare treat him any less than kindly; Burt always said no one pushed the Hummels around. Too bad the other kids at Kurt’s kindergarten didn’t think the same thing. 

When the teachers inevitably informed the little bullies’ parents, they always did the same thing: they would talk to their son or daughter in hushed voices so that Elizabeth couldn’t listen and they would tell the children that they couldn’t make fun of Kurt because he was going to become a Matcher and those were the people who were in charge of the Markeds’ happiness, so it was best to treat them kindly. 

The child, whoever they were, would always answer, “But he has no Mark, that’s… weird,” too loudly, Elizabeth would understand what was going on and she would accept the situation with a sad frown, scraping her inner wrist until the skin around her Mark became an angry red. 

Somewhere, deep inside her mind, Elizabeth thought that if she scraped hard enough her Mark would come off, then she would be like her son and he wouldn’t have to feel so different anymore.

Those parents had all the wrong reasons, but after those kind of talks the bullies usually left Kurt alone for a while, and that was okay for Elizabeth. All she cared about was her son’s well being.

Elizabeth used to look at her son’s wrist, rubbing the white, ivory spot where black lines should have been with a sad smile. She wanted him to be happy, but a fulfilling life without a soulmate was a hard concept to grasp, everyone knew Matchers didn’t find love, their only purpose was to make sure Markeds did. 

Kurt had always been a romantic, and Elizabeth feared a life like that could destroy him. So she humored him in every little thing she could, making sure that if no one would ever make his son happy, she could.

Then Elizabeth died, and Burt’s Mark faded until the only thing left of his odd violin key was a weird line turning on itself. He had never had any musical talent, anyway.

Even without his mother, Kurt grew up loved, surrounded by art and music. Home was his safe place, soon glee club became some kind of refuge too but everyone there had a Mark and before the end of senior year they had all met their match, except for Kurt and Mercedes who were both born without a tattoo in their inner wrist. 

They left Ohio behind, moved to New York and became Matchers in its home office. He got quickly promoted as head of the twelfth floor, ten units working under him on the field; she got entrusted with the Archive where the files containing informations regarding every Marked of New York were sorted, filtered, and updated everyday. 

They didn’t know who did it or why, but everyday they would find some of those files out of their place and those files were of people who would be near their soulmate that day. It was a weirdly accurate thing that happened ever since humans invented the concept of census and none dared question it. It was just the way it was, like many other things. Kurt’s job was to make sure Markeds met the person they were destinate to be with.

The hand of Fate was long, but not long enough to finish what it started. 

Kurt was happy with his life, though; he liked bringing people joy, seeing the look one one’s face when they found that someone with their same tattoo.

With a deep breath, he put his sunglasses on his face, and headed to the tall glass building that was his office. Another day, another run of people to help.

As soon as he got out of the elevator Mercedes run towards him with a cart filled with the files for the day.

They were a lot.

Kurt’s eyes went wide, he threw his sunglasses in his messanger bag and stared silently at the impressive amount of work.

“Thirty-three matches and twenty new Markeds born yesterday,” Mercedes explained, her face apologetic. “I found them all on my desk this morning.” She shrugged. 

“Twenty Markeds? Was there a party nine months ago? Oh no, let me guess: another prophecy that foresaw the end of the world?” Kurt sassed. He drew out a long sigh, his hand went to his forehead and he took just a few seconds to think of how to organize all that. 

The babies weren't a problem, he could send one person to do the job — hell, he could do it himself if he wanted — taking a photo of the Mark and the name of the newborn for the records only took an handful of seconds; the real problem were the thirty-tree matches.

Kurt walked into the open space where all the Matchers were waiting for their assignments. When they saw their Chief walking in with a full cart most of them rolled their eyes or huffed with their arms crossed on their chest.

“Hello, agents,” he greeted happily, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Good morning, Chief,” some of them answered. Soon everyone who had been distracted with something else turned his attention to Kurt.

“Today we got sixty-six names in the mailbox, I know it's a lot but we can do it. Can't we?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, as if he dared anyone to disagree. He was young but he knew how to handle himself. He gave a few files to each unit. “Unit two and unit three will handle the newborns. Any question?”

Someone complained under their breath but even the oldest agents didn't dare say anything out loud. 

Kurt nodded, satisfied with himself, and dismissed everyone with a movement of his hand. 

He was headed to the Archive to sort out the oldest cases and some of the newest ones he had yet to organize, but when he passed by the cart Mercedes put the files in that morning, he found one little picture there. He furrowed his brows, his head angled to the side like a confused puppy. The old polaroid was the silhouette of a bird, his wings open; a Mark on someone’s skin. 

It was a pretty Mark, Kurt could tell even though the picture was old. If he had been born a Marked he would have liked something as simple and elegant as that one. It was no secret that little Kurt had fantasized about romance and true love when he looked at his parents so happy with each other. 

He reached for his phone and he sent a message to every agent on the field, asking them to check if there was a picture missing in any of their files, possibly late eighties, then he opened the first drawer. He needed to find the only document without pictures between hundreds of thousands, better get started.

Mercedes found him at two in the afternoon, still looking. Everyone had told him there was no missing picture in their assignments and he was going crazy.

She approached him carefully, trying not to scare him up, and she put a hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing here? Isn't it late? Shouldn't you be in your office, coordinating the Matching Operations?”

“They can go on without me. I have to put this in its place,” Kurt said pointing to the picture sitting on the table without raising his head off the files he was examining.

Mercedes took a good look at the picture, but she couldn’t remember whom it belonged to and she worked in the archive everyday. “You should take a break, let me do this,” she insisted closing the drawer Kurt had his head buried in. 

He got scared and jumped a few feet behind the locker. “Why did you do that?” he asked with wide eyes bringing his hands on his chest.

She had her hands on her hips and a no-nonsense look on her face. “Have you eaten at all today?” 

Kurt stared at somewhere behind his friend, looking for help that would never come, just like the answer to Mercedes’ question.

“You come with me in your office, eat something different from an energy bar, then come back here and if I’m not done with this,” she shook the picture in front of his face, “When you’re done, maybe you can help me.” She hooked Kurt’s arm with hers and led him to the elevator with no further protest. 

After lunch, Kurt was still not allowed to go back to the Archive. 

He had tried multiple times during the day, but nothing had worked and now they still had to find twelve people and match them together before the end of the day, the agents’ patience was running dry which meant he had to monitor the operations from his office. There was no way he could waste more time on a silly thing like a fallen Mark picture.

He didn’t even know why he needed to know whom it belonged to, the same thing had happened other times but that particular little bird attracted him like a moth to a flame. 

“Okay Pete, good work. Thirty-three matches made! Give yourselves a pat on the arm and go home,” Kurt said on the microphone on his desk connected to the agents’ earplugs. They all laughed, the sound clear and loud coming from the speakers. Kurt allowed himself a little, relieved giggle, too. It had been a long day.

He turned off all the lights, closed the door to his office and got into the elevator. It was past eleven and the few people who actually worked in the office had already left hours ago, including Mercedes, so he allowed himself to go into the Archive if only to check if she had indeed found where the photo belonged.

There was one single lamp still on, under its light the square picture of a black bird etched in someone’s wrist and a yellow post-it underneath, “There is no file with a missing picture. Sorry. xx”

He felt like the time his father had explained him why all the kids considered him different, why he didn’t have a pretty drawing like everyone else. He had been completely crushed, and so had been Burt; how do you tell your two years-old kid he will never have love in his life?

It was a feeling he never wanted to experience again. 

Against his best judgement, Kurt decided to pick up the photo and take it with him. 

He didn’t want to go home just yet; the day had been really long and filled with adrenaline which hadn’t quite faded yet, so he closed everything up and went to the bar across the street to get a drink and possibly make him sleepy before two in the morning. Being a tired drunk had never worked in his favor, but maybe it could come in handy for once. 

He had a spot, a seat he always occupied when he needed to take a break from all the lovely couples out there who made him feel even more lonely: it was an angle far off from the dance floor where the music was not too loud, and the light weren’t too dimmed. 

“That's my seat,” he told the man sitting in his chair.

When the stranger turned around he smiled slightly at Kurt, his eyes going incredibly wide, his mouth parting as if he had seen the most beautiful thing ever. His eyes flickered to Kurt’s hands, with no doubt trying to catch a glimpse of his inexistent tattoo, before he finally came back to Earth and said, “Oh, sorry! Sorry. I didn't -- sorry.” He rushed out of the seat, taking his jacket to fold it awkwardly in the crook of his elbow. “All yours,” he gestured to the - now empty - chair with his hand, causing the jacket to fall on the floor.

Kurt giggled under his breath at the clumsiness of the man in front of him, he brought his fist to his mouth to hide it, with little success.

“I didn't know it was taken I just,” he stopped to try and fix his jacket which now was wrinkled and a tad dirty. “I was waiting for someone but it seems I've been stood up. Again.”

Kurt felt sorry for him, he had tried his hand at dating once, when he had been too stubborn to accept his faith, and it had gone horribly bad as well. “You could still keep me company.”

The other man beamed, “Really?”

“Yeah, sure,” Kurt agreed with a shrug. “I just want a few drinks, I don't expect to stay late and company is always a good thing to have when I'm drinking. Even though I do tend to get extremely stupid.”

“You do?”

Kurt nodded with an air of finality. “The only two times I got wasted I got a tattoo on the back of my shoulder that says 'it gets better’, or I wanted to but they misspelled it, the second time…” he sighed. Why was he telling all that to a person he didn't even know the name of, anyway? “I might need those few drinks to talk about that.”

“I'll go get them. My treat for being so kind. What do you want?” The stranger put his jacket on the back of the chair, again. He was oddly endearing with his clothes fitted for a sixty years old which somehow only managed to make him look younger; it was the first thing Kurt had noticed when he had taken a good look at his outfit.

“Vodka on the rock is fine.” To hell with the Shirley Temple, he needed something strong after the day he had, even more so since it kept on getting weirder by the second. 

When the man disappeared in the crowd, he allowed himself to sit down and process the last ten minutes: he had just agreed to have drinks with a stranger. At the end of the night he could end up with a buddy in crime or dead in a dark hallway.

The other man turned around to go back to the table. “I just realized I don't know your name. I'm Blaine.” He extended his right hand for Kurt to shake, and that was when he saw his Mark: the silhouette of a bird, his wings open.

The first thing that came to mind was, “Fuck.”


	2. Unexpected Involvements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I got a little bit of feedback there! I'm glad you guys like the first chapter, and to answer the last comment I got: yes, this is gonna hurt. In fact, I'm going to make sure it hurts as much as possible. You don't know me yet. I'm wicked.   
> I know it's New Year's Eve so not the best time for an update, sorry about that!  
> I hope you enjoy the chapter and I'll be back next week if all goes according to plans :D

Blaine laughed. “Sorry, what?” 

Thank God he looked amused more than anything else.

Kurt shook his head and corrected himself, “Kurt. My name is Kurt.”

The night had been far more enjoyable thank Kurt had planned.

He had wanted to go home after two drinks, he had wanted a little peace and quiet, but Blaine had other plans, and Kurt was far too noble to leave someone as innocent as his new acquaintance alone in a place where anyone could do anything to that naïve, sweet person. They had known each other for three hours but someone who, drunk up their asses, screamed he only wanted to make art and help people before tripping on his own feet couldn’t possibly be dangerous.

At one in the morning, after three glasses of vodka and three shots that vaguely tasted like strawberry and Hell itself, Kurt decided they had had enough. 

Blaine was something of a lightweight, he had only drunk half a beer and the shots but he looked like he was about to pass out any moment so Kurt took him out by the hand into the street, hoping the fresh air could make him sober up a bit, and called for an uber. 

“Okay, Blaine. Blaine! Look at me!” he called when he noticed Blaine was staring up at the sky.

“Did you see that? There is a full moon tonight!” 

Apparently, when he was drunk, Blaine got excited over every little thing. It was adorable, and it would have been also bearable if Kurt wasn’t feeling like his brain was swimming in jell-o. He smiled anyway, rolling his eyes fondly. “I called a cab. It’s gonna be here any minute now, but you have to tell me your address. Can you do that for me?”

Blaine squinted his eyes, like a baby trying to remember something really hard, then he raised one hand to put it on Kurt’s shoulder; looking at him with his eyes wide open, he blurted out the name of the street he lived in and the number of his apartment before turning around to puke on the sidewalk. At least Kurt’s shoes had been speared, but that wasn’t how he planned to end his night. 

He actually liked Blaine, a lot. They had shared some of their stories before he went up the cuckoo's nest, and they found out they had a lot in common. At some point during the night, they even did a little a duet when the speakers of the pub blurted out the latest P!nk song Blaine was so fond of. Kurt’s wrist was hidden behind bracelets and tight, long sleeves; he was pretending, just for one night, that he could get everything they always told him he couldn’t have. 

When the Uber arrived, Kurt helped Blaine get on the backseat and climbed after him.  _ Just to make sure he gets home safely _ , he told himself.

 

The next morning Kurt didn’t wake up to the sound of his phone’s alarm, but to the blinding light coming through a window that was supposed to be closed, just the way he made sure it was when he got to bed every night. 

He turned around, trying to reach for the nightstand where his phone would usually be, praying he hadn’t forgotten to charge it the night before. Iinstead of hitting his nightstand with his arm, he hit the floor with his ass, and his head banged against something really hard adding to the headache of a good hangover the pain of the smack. 

He sat himself up. Looking around his surrounding, he noticed he wasn’t in his bed, he wasn’t even in his house. Kurt groaned loudly, falling back on the fluffy carpet that had softened his slip off the couch he had apparently fallen asleep on. 

The events from the previous night came back to him in full force: Blaine had returned slowly back to himself after the alcohol had been drained from his system, but they were both still tipsy when they reached his apartment. Blaine had gone straight to bed, kicking his shoes off with little force; Kurt had bidden him goodnight, but it was half past one, and his recklessness had turned into sleepiness, just the way he had planned hours before, so he threw himself into the first horizontal surface - Blaine’s couch - and he fell asleep, deeply and quickly.

Kurt wanted to disappear and never be seen again by any human being. Maybe if he stood still the carpet would absorb him.

Blaine appeared from his bedroom not five minutes later. His hair was muffled from the pillows, sticking at odd angles because of the gel he hadn’t removed, his cardigan was gone leaving only the polo shirt underneath and the short pants he was wearing at the bar. 

Kurt raised his head, he was about to say he was sorry about the night before but Blaine was even cuter when he was all sleepy and comfortable so instead of talking, he gave himself a few seconds to appreciate that.

Aware of the awkward silence that was about to take over, Blaine gestured towards one of the doors - probably the kitchen - and asked, “Uhm, breakfast?”

They managed to get rid of the weirdness fairly quickly, it was like they had known each other for years, even when they got to cooking bacon and eggs (to cure the hangover, neither of them showed it but their heads were about to explode) their moves around the other were smooth. It almost looked practiced.

They ate on the couch, their plates balanced on their lap. They didn't know how the conversation started, but they found themselves talking about everything and nothing, laughing like madmen at something the other had said.

“I think I should apologize, about last night,” Blaine blurted out of the blue. He was looking down to his plate, pushing the eggs around with his fork. “That's not exactly the kind of first impression I like to make.”

Kurt swallowed quickly the bacon he had been chewing on. “It's nothing, I had fun.”

“Before I puked all over the street?” Blaine asked with a hint of amusement even if his cheeks were starting to become pink from the embarrassment.

Kurt chuckled under his breath. “Yes, before that. Besides, I should be the one apologizing here: I slept on your couch.”

“You did tell me you get sleepy when you're drunk.”

“I wasn't drunk! You were drunk.”

“And you made sure I got home safe,” Blaine kept on talking, ignoring the other man’s affronted face, opting on taking the empty plates with him to clean up and distract himself. “So really, thank you and I'm sorry. I swear I can be a normal, functional human being sometimes.” He headed in the direction of the kitchen, leaving Kurt alone on the loveseat to think.

He was finding himself in an unusual situation, he didn't know how to act around a nice boy who made him breakfast, he barely knew he was gay (because yes he was, Matchers weren't supposed to feel attraction but he had always liked boys and never hid it from anyone; just because he couldn't act on his feelings didn't mean he could wish them away) and Blaine had a soulmate out there, looking for him, waiting for him. Was he really going to be selfish enough to ask him out?

“Hey, I don't know if you already did but you'd better call in work and tell them you're sick or something,” Blaine said coming back to the living room.

“What? Why?” Kurt came back from his daydreaming with a blink of his eyes.

“Well, it's half past ten in the morning and you're still here. You told me you had a morning shift, right?”

Kurt’s eyes got so large they were the size of a baseball, he got up immediately and he checked his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed. “I have to go! I have to work. I can't call in sick, It's not an option!” He was hyperventilating, his cheeks turning red.

“Okay, wait. Kurt,” Blaine called him, holding him by the shoulders, forcing Kurt to look him in the eyes. “It's fine. Take a deep breath.” He made a show out of breathing air into his lungs, forcing Kurt to do the same. 

“I have to go to work,” he repeated, calmly this time. 

Blaine let his hands fall at his side, a diverted smile on his lips. “All right. Goodbye then.”

“I’ll call you.” He really didn't want to say goodbye.

Before he could finish his sentence, Blaine had shoved his phone into Kurt's hands.

“I don't have your number,” he explained quickly.

Kurt fidgeted with the device, tapping here and there for a few seconds before he returned it to its rightful owner. “Now you do, so I guess  _ you _ 'll call me.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

A few seconds passed where neither of them knew what was going to happen next. Kurt could already hear the wraith of Mercedes screaming he was late, and that image alone was enough to force him out of Blaine’s apartment with a wave of his hand and a promise to see each other again soon.

Kurt reached his office at twelve, his hair and face a mess and the clothes from the previous night. He knew now what a Walk of Shame felt like, he’d have to send a message to Rachel and inform her that even if he hadn’t actually “done the deed” he was sorry for all the times she had had to go back to her own home after a night with Finn.

It wasn’t his fault, but he still wanted to apologize in behalf of Fate because having people stare at you like they knew what you had done (or hadn’t done, in his case) was the worst feeling ever. 

When he got out of the elevator, Mercedes rushed from the Archive straight to him, like a hound who had smelled its prey. “Where were you, Hummel?” she asked forcefully. One of her fingers was digging into his chest and Kurt released a yelp of pain.

“Nowhere. Home. My alarm didn’t go off,” he lied. “Can I have today’s files, please?”

“Too late. I already thought about that.”

Kurt rolled his eyes to the ceiling, too tired to argue and knowing he was going to be wrong no matter what, he asked Mercedes how many matches they had to make (ten) if there was any newborn (not today, all clear) and if the squads had already been assigned (yes, two of them had already finished their work) then he turned around on his heels and went to his office two stairs up.

 

He was in the middle of an important operation when he noticed the light on his phone going off, indicating he had a new message or a missed call; both a possibility since he had been so engrossed in the match he and the fourth squad were directing he had put the device on silent mode.

“Greg, you can’t just go and shove their soulmate’s file in their faces! Make sure they get near each other,  _ then _ leave. No, Lisa you need to make something up. I don’t know, tell him you’re a tourist and you need informations. You speak Spanish, don’t you?” Kurt talked into the microphone, his voice more high pitched than normal. “Hang on.”

He unlocked the phone, the message was from an unknown number; when he read the text he couldn’t hold his excited smile.

 

_ Hey, it’s Blaine. Is it too soon to text you? I just wanted to ask you if you’re free tomorrow. _

1.03 PM

 

“Boss, I got the target. Permission to go on with the plan?”

Kurt was typing a reply, he almost didn't hear his agent’s voice.  _ Just two seconds, they can wait two seconds,  _ he thought to himself.

 

_ Am I? What do you think? _

2.27PM

 

He turned around quickly to talk into the microphone, but when he looked at the screen with the images of the surveillance camera he saw Greg trying to grab the target’s purse; on the other side of the street her soulmate - who was talking to Lisa - noticed the scene and rushed to help. 

Greg received a smack on the back of his head before he managed to run away, the two got to talking and it was clear she had seen his tattoo because she held his hand and they walked off together, probably to have a late lunch and talk.

“Sorry, Boss. You were taking pretty long and the girl was running away. I had to do something,” Greg explained.

A new text arrived on Kurt’s phone, he couldn't help but read it because the screen was open on the  _ Messages _ app.

 

_ What? _ _   
_ 2.18PM

 

“Great job. You did good,” Kurt reassured him, his voice cracking. What was he doing getting distracted during an operation? And by flirting of all things. “You can all go home, unit six is officially done for the day.”

The whole unit cheered, they said goodbye and took off their earbuds.

Kurt took his phone in hand, he bit his bottom lip trying to figure out what to do next. 

He wasn’t sure Blaine was going to ask him out on a date, but if that was the case Kurt couldn’t possibly lead him on. There was no chance of them ever having a relationship, not with Blaine’s soulmate out in the world looking for him, that was the reason why Matchers didn’t date Markeds, it was a dead end.

 

_ Relax. I was just teasing! Yes, I’m free. Did you have anything in mind? _

2.21PM

 

_ There _ , he thought to himself,  _ nice and friendly _ . 

He was never free from his work: he had to come in the office every morning, he didn’t know when his shift would end. It was some kind of weird joke that the only Matcher who had a life outside his work would be also one of the chiefs of America’s busiest city’s Matching System. 

He was about to witness the ultimate meet-cute: two girls were going to crash into each other because a casual passerby (agent Gus) would bump the one with the tea in hand, causing it to spill on the other’s shirt; the guilty party would take a napkin, apologies would follow soon after, they would see the matching tattoos and the whole deal would translate in a good story to tell their grandchildren. 

His phone rang just as the brunette rounded the corner.

 

_ Lunch? To repay you for the cab _

2.29PM

 

Kurt could have pointed out the fact that Blaine had brought the drinks so they should have been even, but if he really thought about the previous night he did also pay for the shots so lunch would only be fair.

 

_ Lunch sounds good. There is a little restaurant here. Italian ok?  _

2.30PM

 

He thought, in the back of his mind, that if he chose the place then his plan of considering the meeting as nothing but friendly would have been a little easier. There was no way he was telling Blaine where he worked, knowing the guy he would come and pick him up at his office door. If something like that happened, Kurt knew there was no way he could tell himself it wasn’t a date, so Italian it was, even though pasta wouldn’t help his healt. 

 

_ Italian is perfect :) _

2.30PM

 

_ I’ll text you the address, meet you there at twelve! _

2.30PM

 

Kurt sent the picture of the restaurant, he put his phone back on the desk but his eyes kept darting to the screen, waiting for it to lighten up despite the fact that the conversation was over. He was the one who had wanted it over immediately, he didn’t get why it worked him up that much.

He turned the phone upside down, just to make sure it wouldn’t be a distraction anymore.

“Boss, did you listen to anything we said in the past five minutes?” Gus asked for the tenth time.

Kurt winced, he whispered, “No?” into the microphone. He felt like he was a field agent again, getting scolded. It felt awful. 

Gus huffed in annoyance, Kurt could see him passing a hand through his hair from the surveillance cameras. “The girl noticed me, they didn’t meet.”

“What?!”

“She saw me, excused herself and didn’t spill the drink. They passed right by each other.”

“Okay, it doesn’t matter. Gus, you’re on watching duty. Lin, take his place. We’re following them.” He opened a new window on his computer, he began to type on the keyboard to look for the girls’ social media, hoping for a clue on when they would meet next. “This is gonna be harder than I thought.”


	3. Something Unexpected, Something Obvious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! Sorry I was a little late, things got crazy at school AND I got a deal with ad editor, they want to publish one of my stiories! How crazy is that?!?!?!? I've been super pumped all week, but sadly that led to me writing less of this story, so this chapter is a little shorter, but I promise you I'll make it up to you in the next one. Sadly I'm not going to post every week like I wanted, I have to write a lot of other stuff because now the school wants me to take part in several contests and... ugh. IT'S A LOT!!   
> I'll stop rambling, I'll leave you to the story. As always your comments are highly appreciated :D  
> I'll re-read the chapter later and fix any mistakes I missed because I'm just high on emotions and I do not 100% trust myself to proofread!!!

The next day went on much like the previous one, except for the absence of disturbing text messages with oddly cute little smiles at the end. Kurt almost thought he wouldn’t have to sneak out the office to go to his non-date lunch with Blaine.

Mercedes entered his office at precisely ten to twelve, right when he was about to get up and leave. “Hey, Kurt?” 

Kurt had his coat halfway on, his scarf was resting around his neck ready to be tied. He raised his head with a questioning glance.

“Where are you going?”

Kurt played dumb. He looked at himself for a second and shaked his head as if he wanted to dismiss the situation, but he put on the rest of his coat anyway. “Oh, just out to take a bite. Why?” He fixed his scarf, to prove his point. He was going to go out of that office.

“Don’t worry, I was just asking because we got a few files from a big plane of tourists who came in for the holidays. You know I usually handle those things myself but... no, you should go eat something. I’ll just have a late lunch.” She turned around, ready to get the elevator.

In any other day, Kurt would have said something, he would have helped Mercedes with the hundreds of documents she had to file away with the others no-NYC residents. He shifted on his feet for a while, but just when he was going to reach for his friend and apologize she got into the elevator and waved to him before the metal doors closed. 

He wondered why he was feeling so guilty; the Archive was her job, not his. He could go out with a Marked without feeling like he was betraying the whole soulmate-system and she had three floors of people working under her. She could handle the situation herself.

The doubts followed him down the stairs and into the street; they stopped dead in their tracks as soon as Kurt saw Blaine already sitting at one of the tables outside the restaurant, waiting for him with that warm smile Kurt remembered well from the previous morning. 

Kurt himself found out he wasn’t moving, in fact he was glued to the spot with an infectious grin on his face which disappeared as soon as he noticed that Blaine was still looking at him and he was making a fool of himself for every New York passersby to see. He marched the five feet that still separated him from their table and sat down as if his cheeks weren’t burning like hell.

“Hi, sorry I was late.”

“You’re not late, I came early.” Blaine looked at the crowd of people who had preferred the nice, warm inside tables to the chilly November air. “But maybe you wanted a seat inside?” He flinched, bowing his head down.

“No, no. It’s fine. I like autumn,” Kurt reassured him. The urge to take Blaine’s hand was strong, he wanted to comfort him and they had known each other for five hours top; plus that wasn’t a date. 

He needed to make sure they were both on the same page about that, though, just to avoid any awkward conversations later. “So, I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?” 

“I know it may seem weird, but this” - he gestured between the two of them - ”are we… is this a date?”

Blaine had morphed his guilty expression into a smug one, he stood up straight and he had his hands folded on the table, leaning slightly towards Kurt. “That was my intention, yes,” he clarified, amused by the other man’s blush. 

If someone had asked Kurt, he would have said it was because of the, nonexistent, wind.

“Okay, uhm, in that case I have to be completely honest with you.” He took a deep breath, his chest puffing out with the effort. He took off his coat, he was about to roll up his sleeves when Blaine quickly made his way to his side of the table to bring the jacket back where it was safely wrapping up Kurt’s figure, but he only managed to put it on his shoulders.

“What are you doing? It’s freezing. There are, like, thirty-two degrees.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, hand still on the helm of his shirt. “I’m not trying to catch a cold. I just need to show you something.” Undoing his cufflinks with his left hand was more difficult than he would have liked to admit. “Can you sit down, please?” His voice was shaking.

Blaine obliged, he took his seat but he didn’t resent from talking his mind, “Look, Kurt, if I misjudged the situation you can just tell me. I know not everyone is comfortable with dating someone that isn’t their- okay.” He got interrupted by Kurt’s plain, white right wrist being shoved in his face. 

“I wanted to tell you because I like you, I like you a lot and I don’t know how to do this. I don’t even know if this is a good idea. You know Matchers never date, right? Because what if one day I have to match you and your soulmate? What if you meet him on your own? I’d be left behind and I’d be crushed because I don’t know how to do things halfway, I just don’t!” Kurt’s voice had gotten hysterical the more he went on with his ramblings, Blaine was forced to grab his wrist to make him stop.

“Kurt, Kurt! Listen to me,” he pleaded. “I asked you out because I like you, too. I had fun last night and I wanted to see you again. That’s it.”

“But what if you meet-”

“Then I will tell him that I’m sorry but I’m - hopefully - dating a really nice guy. If we’re meant to be together it will happen, but I want to chose it. I wouldn’t leave you behind.” He spoke like they had known each other for all their life, like he had all the certainty in the world that something like that would never happen to them; if something like that could ever exist.

Oddly enough, Kurt believed him.

“We’d have to keep it a secret, I can’t risk my agents seeing me” - he looked around with a suspicious eye, then he inched closer to Blaine with his chair, causing their faces to be mere inches apart - “dating a Marked form my own Archive, I’d be fired,” he whispered.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. Okay, if that’s what you want. At one condition, though.”

Kurt closed his eyes briefly. “What?”

“Can we order? I’m starving.”

Kurt giggled under his breath, shaking his head fondly. He snapped his fingers and called for the waiter.

Two hours later, they were still sitting there, noses red for the cold and plates empty before them.

Kurt was feeling giddy with wine and good company, he had laughed so hard at one of Blaine’s storied his eyes had gone watery. He never wanted to go back to work, but his phone ringed for the third time in less than twenty minutes. He looked at Mercedes’ name with an annoyed frown.

“I’m sorry, I really have to take this,” he said sweeping his thumb on the screen. 

Blaine watched helplessly while Kurt argued with whoever was on the other side of the line. Judging by his voice, the conversation was not pleasant. He talked about work, Matches, documents, and a lot of things Blaine didn’t know anything about. 

He hung up with a final, “I’ll be right there. Give me five minutes.” Kurt sighed while he pocketed the phone in his coat. “Work,” he explained as a way of apologizing for his imminent departure.

They both got up at the same time, Blaine waved for the waiter to come and take the bill’s money. The guy reached them getting stiff after he stepped outside without so much as a jacket; he took the payment and didn’t frown just because the tip was fairly generous.

“I’ll just” - Kurt pointed to the corner from where he had arrived - “go.”

Blaine had his hands inside his pockets, he was dancing on the balls of his feet. Kurt noticed he was wearing short pants and he wondered how he could take it in that weather; he really hadn’t noticed how cold it was before. 

“Can I walk you to your office?” he asked hopefully.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Okay. Right.” Blaine took a step forward, he raised himself on his toes to leave a quick kiss on Kurt’s cheek before backing away completely. He hesitated for a few seconds before he turned around and started to walk away.

Kurt almost slapped himself in the face when the next words came out of his mouth, “Wait, Blaine!”

The other man turned around faster than lightning, looking at Kurt like he had the whole sun in his hands and he was offering him to Blaine.

“I guess you could. Walk me to my office, that is. But just around the corner, not actually… you know.” He had his hands folded in front of him, they were turning and twisting while he spoke.

So they walked the whole block together in amicable silence, admiring the sun that was starting to shyly get out from behind the clouds and the tall gray buildings that made the little markets and restaurants seem even smaller. 

Kurt stopped abruptly when he saw the glass skyscraper that was his office come into view. He turned around so that he and Blaine were face to face, while unconsciously blocking his way.

“Thanks for lunch,” he said, fondness clear in his voice.

“Thanks for the cab.”

“So now we’re even, uh? Does that mean you’re gonna abandon me?” Kurt was being playful, he didn’t remember the first time something like that had happened, not with a guy he was interested in. Actually he was pretty sure it had never happened in those circumstances.

“Or we could just drop the act, see each other sometime this weekend and call it a date?” Blaine suggested. His charms were cracking, if you looked hard enough you could see a fragment of a little, scared boy who just wanted to be less alone.

Maybe it was that little glimpse of imperfection that made Kurt realise they were much more similar than he had ever thought. He nodded. “I’d love to go out with you.” That was a sentence he’d never thought he would say to anyone, it felt nice.

Kurt got out of the elevator with an extra spring in his steps. He passed by the Archive’s door and Mercedes saw him with his infectious smile, and decided to stop him immediately. 

“Hey, there.” 

Kurt turned around with a movement that made his coat twirl, he looked miles away from where his body was actually standing. “Hey!”

Mercedes couldn’t help herself, she smiled too. Everything that could make her best friend look like that must have been good.

“You took an awful long lunch break, I was afraid I’d have to come and seek you out.”

He looked at his watch and noticed that it had been more than two hours since he had left the office. A wave of reality hit him like a stone on the head, his smile faded and his eyes widened so much the eyeballs were about to fall off. “Oh my God! Oh my God. I did!”

“Calm down,” she reassured him with a chuckle, putting her arms lightly on his. “Everything is fine. You only have two missed calls from Rachel, that’s all.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much! I gotta go. I gotta go back to work.” He rushed up the stairs to the twelve floor. As soon as he reached his office he locked the door and called his friend back.

Rachel hadn’t been in contact with him for a few months. She had a big tour with her Broadway show and they knew schedules were gonna be pretty tight; the night before her opening the had celebrated, said their goodbye in the most dramatic way and parted with the knowledge that the next time they were gonna meet again wasn’t going to be the week after, o even the one after that.

Despite everything, he had missed her, so knowing she had tried to contact him had made Kurt even happier. 

When she answered the phone, it was with a screech. “Kurt! Hi! I’m so so glad you called me back!”

“Hi, Rach! How are you doing?” 

He had been seeing posters of her show all across New York City. It felt weird seeing her on the side of a bus, knowing she was a few block away, but never going to see her performances because either work or that weird feeling that sometimes overtook him and forced him to stay in bed stopped him from taking the subway to Broadway; plus tickets were expensive, his job didn’t pay that much.

“I’m great. I have wonderful news, you’re not going to believe this!” Rachel was talking in a high-pitched, super-excited voice. He had missed that, too.

“Well, tell me!” Kurt sat down at his chair. If Rachel had news, he wanted to be prepared for what was to come.

“I found my soulmate!”

Kurt was slightly pulled back by that revelation. He had always thought her soulmate was Finn, and he told her so, but she said she met this other guy who had her same Mark and, “I swear, Kurt. He is my perfect match. He’s exactly what I thought about when they told us about soulmates in school! I- I’d like you guys to meet.”

She had been really heartbroken after Finn had broke up with her before their impromptu wedding. She was devastated over the idea of losing her soulmate, and Kurt had been there to pick up the pieces when she had finally decided to move to New York without him and chose the road of rebellion. She had met her soulmate, he had claimed he wanted the best for her and set her free, she declared she needed to focus on her career and love just had to wait.

Kurt had to stop for a moment. He put two fingers on his temple, massaging lightly to make sure he wasn’t going to get a migraine out of that conversation. He really couldn’t judge Rachel seeing as he was - apparently - dating a Marked, he couldn’t blame it on her if she wanted to create her own life outside of the system’s rules, so he decided to be a good friend and support her in her decision. 

If everything with the guy went south, he would be there with a pint of cookie dough ice cream and the Funny Girl blu-ray so they could bitch about Mr. Austen and throw out the frustration. 

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll meet him.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, part of the fandom who's still alive!   
> I'm a late bloomer, I know, I just have so may ideas for these characters! I read so many soulmate!aus and I always wanted to write my own, I just added a twist here, because who wants to see the same old story, right?  
> If you think you know what the twist is, you are wrong, let me tell you, so if you want to find out you'll just have to read more :D   
> As always I want to clarify that English is not my first language and I do not have beta, so any mistakes you find are mine and mine only.


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